


This Woman's Work

by femmenerd



Series: Winsisters [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Episode Tag, F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-17
Updated: 2007-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John had two daughters" AU; coda to SPN ep 3.07, “Fresh Blood.” (But should make sense even if you don't have perfect SPN recall.)</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Sam watched her sister a lot.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	This Woman's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here.](http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/279703.html)
> 
> Title an allusion to the Kate Bush song.

Jess knew how to do her own oil changes. She had this boxy old Volvo Dee would have laughed at; Jess playfully called it her “truck.” There _was_ plenty of room in the back of that thing though, enough with the backseat folded down for two tall girls to entangle themselves to the hilt. 

Sam lifted an eyebrow when she first found out about her new girlfriend’s technical skills. “But you’re...”

“If you say ‘too femme,’ I’m going to kick your ass, Sam Winchester,” Jess threatened with a teasing finger (clear varnish on the tip, clipped short out of sapphic politeness).

Sam wrapped her arms around Jess’s middle and murmured into her long, blonde hair. “You’re not too much of anything. You’re just right.” 

Jess laughed and twisted around to kiss Sam on the mouth, pushed her small hands under Sam’s flannel and pulled her in by the belt loops until Sam’s pelvic bones jutted into the curve of Jess’s hip. “You're a good one, Sam Winchester. You’re good.” 

*

John Winchester taught his oldest how to change the Impala’s oil when Dee was nine years old and Sam was five. After that, Dee always had dark traces of grease under her fingernails no matter how much she washed. When she was thirteen, Dee started painting them fire engine red. Invariably, the polish would chip–more when she was washing dishes than cleaning guns or working on engines, Dee never failed to point out. 

“I’m a dirty girl,” Dee would say with a wink. 

Sam watched her sister working under the hood–Dee whistling to herself while Sam bit her own nails down to the quick. Sam watched her sister a lot. 

In high school, Sam thought briefly about signing up for auto shop. But cars were Dee’s thing and that was the only class her sister’d even liked–Dee was a fan of any situation in which boys were forced to admit that she was not only hot but also _awesome_. And so, in the end, Sam took _shop_ shop. She wasn’t just the only girl there, she was also the only one with a 4.0 grade point average. But Sam didn’t mind. She liked getting her hands dirty. It made her feel grown up. 

Also, Sam didn’t care as much about what boys thought as Dee did. But then, boys couldn’t give Sam what she wanted, even a little bit.

Sam built a bird house for her final project, reworked the design. She got an A plus for ingenuity, filled it with seed, and hung it up just outside the kitchen window of their rented house–the last one she ever lived in with her family. On the mornings when Dee woke up with a hangover, she’d bitch about the infernal, F-ing warbling and shake her fist irritably at Sam.

That was one of the only “Dee stories” Sam ever told Jess.

Jess was the first girl Sam ever let go down on her. She was also the last. With the ones after, Sam preferred to watch what she could do to _them_ , the ways she could make them shake and scream whatever name she gave. She liked to watch her whole hand slide folded into a cunt. See how much a woman could take. 

*

Sam doesn’t bite her fingernails anymore–if she did, they’d taste like blood.

Dee passes the socket wrench to Sam, tells her to fix the carburetor herself. “You’re gonna need to know these things for the future.”

It feels light in Sam’s hand–like just a tool, instead of a legacy. Dee watches while Sam works, watches as Sam’s hands turn black. “You’re doin’ real good, Sammy. You’re good.”


End file.
